


Sleepless

by rxdiansa (YukitenTheDark)



Category: DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7110415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukitenTheDark/pseuds/rxdiansa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vergil is different. Uncomfortable, upset, neglecting himself. Bianca does her best to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless

She touched his arm and whispered to him, soft, sweet, on her toes, her lips close to his ear as she gave him her concerns. This was the first time she’d seen him in days and while she was relieved to have him in her sights, there was no joy in her eyes when she saw the red in his whites, his well-hidden exhaustion peeking through his stony features. And he’d kept himself occupied by pacing in their room, likely having thought he’d found privacy, avoiding her like the plague.

It stung.

He looked at her then, brows drawn as bare hands took hold of her fingers if only for the moment, before turning away, the softest of frustrated sighs leaving the lungs of her mate. She touched him again, quietly pleading for him to face her, and rested her head between his shoulders, her free fingers finding a hold of his shirt. She didn’t like to see him like this…strength depleted, mind in such a state of unrest, uncomfortable. She’d only ever experienced him in this light once before, over something…different.

Breathing him in, she only held onto the digits that so belonged to him, slowly nosing at the ridges of his spine as she recalled, briefly, that day, blinking once, twice, before releasing his shirt and reaching around him. Embracing. He’d been distressed because of her that time, and she choked down a shaky sigh of her own. But…this wasn’t like last time. If it were, then he wouldn’t have allowed her to brush against him, hold him, no. In fact, he’d have only walked away, frought with irritation, concealed worry. 

In this instance, as he stood firm in his place, rigid, he was consumed by something a little more serious. Something worse. And though she wanted to ask, she wouldn’t. He would share it if he needed to with the knowledge she would be there to listen, even if she couldn’t understand, and as his bare fingers breifly laced with her own, she felt a second’s worth of worry and she oly held him tighter.

“Vergil…” she would whisper, turning her head so he could hear. She wished she could offer something more than his name and her grasp to comfort him and though she loathed to do it, she let go of him if only to step around to his front. Of course, digits held fast to the others, but the hand that had worked its way around him had found a place just under his collarbone, just above his scar. 

And the ice in his eyes seemed to melt, give way to the turmoil he felt alone. The concept of his eyes betraying his composure made her want to smile, but a cheeky grin had no place in the wake of a crumbling man. She tore her eyes from his own, the moment fleeting and…lonely, before she pushed herself to her toes a second time, pressing her lips to his jaw so tightly clamped shut. He hadn’t shaved…

He’d been neglecting even himself.

“Vergil,” she muttered again, an overwhelming sense of sadness filling her to the brim, her gaze returning to the ice she so often found herself lost in. He said nothing in response and she knew he wouldn’t anyway, but she wished he would give her something. She was useless to him when it came to just about everything, but…there were some things she could do. Teetering on the balls of her feet, she kissed his jaw once more, trying her damnedest to coax him out of his silence.

He would speak when he was ready, always, but….

And then, she thought, as he only tightened his impossible grip on her hand, that perhaps what had had him so enraptured, so consumed, was something she’d overlooked so many times before: a lack of control, and of himself, but of the very thing he’d fought tooth and nail to reign in. Hell, demons, power. His goals went unmet, unfulfilled, and he was left vulnerable in the collapse. 

Another kiss, closer now to his lips, soft, trailing, lingering.

But…those were feelings and while they were his and while they were valid, she simply could not agree with them. And maybe she was biased. Maybe she loved him a little too much. Maybe, but she’d seen him in the light of the sun and when she had, there were no words to describe the strength in him. He held within him the power to rule and the drive, the will to command all, and never had she seen a man so beautiful, draped in the arms of the sun. Never had she seen such strength, not even in the lions that so reigned over the Sahara. Not once before him.

Oh, how she wished such pretty words would be enough to guide him.

She pressed her lips to his own and, to her surprise, did he he return the gesture, gently now, releasing every bit of the emotion in him with it. Gods, she hated this. He did not deserve to feel such…such discomfort, such unrest. And the more she thought about how he was feeling, the more she pressed herself against him, the tighter her grip became.

A man like him, a man who brought such happiness to the burning soul of a girl so alone and damaged, a man with the will to command, a man with a smile so inspiring… No, not a man like him. Vergil, her mate, her friend, her joy, deserved to feel whole, deserved to hold the world in his hands, and she would do her very best – anything short of that would be a travesty – to ensure that he got it.

And so, as she held his hand, she kissed him fully, taking in his velvet scent, and brought him back.


End file.
